I wanted more than just a taste.
‘Can you put the lid back on please?’ I begged under my uneven breath. ‘People are starting to stare.’
Joe turned to take a quick survey of the busy fête. ‘Are they?’
‘Bloody well put the lid back on,’ I ordered as he dug back in for a second taste. ‘Who walks around eating jam out the jar?’
He looked down at me, fingers still in his mouth.
‘Me.’
There was nothing I could say and my mouth was the only part of me that was dry.
Rolling his eyes, he slowly screwed the lid back onto the jar and placed it safely in his tote bag with the others. Staring intently at the best vegetable contest at the end of the green, I marched towards the enormous turnips with purpose.
‘Here’s the thing,’ Joe said, only ever one step behind at most. ‘We’re pretty much in the clear now, at least for the weekend. Your mum has sworn everyone to secrecy and your sister has threatened them with grievous bodily harm, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about the women in your family, it’s that their threats hold water.’
‘What about your dad?’ I asked, pleased to see he was learning.
‘My dad can be a lot of things but he won’t shoot his mouth off about this if I ask him not to. And bribe him. Although technically, you’ll be bribing him since you’re the one with all the cash.’
He was probably right. If anyone spoiled her surprise, Charlotte would chop their hands off and I wouldn’t want to be on Pandora Taylor’s bad side. He’d bought us a little more time at least. The afternoon was warming up and my dress was beginning to stick to my skin. I grabbed a handful of hair and secured a messy bun with my trusty claw clip.
‘Might be useful if I had a few stock answers to common questions,’ Joe suggested. ‘In case there are any insistent fans tonight.’
‘What kind of answers?’
‘How you came up with the title, what inspired the Texas setting, will there be a sequel,’ he replied, listing some of the most hotly debated questions on TikTok. ‘And one for me, how did you decide on your pseudonym?’
‘You’re going to laugh,’ I said, colouring up as I spoke.
‘Promise I won’t.’
‘Este is me, S Taylor. S-Tay.’
‘And what about Cox?’
I winced, scrunching my entire face up tightly.
‘I thought it was funny?’
Joe’s jam jars clanked together with the force of his laughter.
‘You promised you wouldn’t laugh!’ I protested as he doubled over.
‘And you can’t make dick jokes without expecting it to raise a titter,’ he replied. ‘Sophie, Sophie, Sophie, for shame.’
‘It’s not like I expected to ever be in a position where I had to explain myself,’ I said, not even attempting to defend my incredible immaturity. ‘I know it’s stupid.’
Wiping a tear away from under his eye, he shook his head. ‘It’s perfect. I should write a sequel from Eric’s perspective under the name Hugh G. Balls.’
‘Feel free,’ I groaned, the spectre of one of my remaining unsolved problems popping back into view. ‘Someone has to deliver a manuscript next week and I’m struggling.’
The side of Joe’s hand brushed against mine as we walked, our little fingers almost interlocking before it was gone again.
‘Classic second album syndrome,’ he said. ‘Sometimes talking it through helps a creative block. What’s the problem?’
‘Wish I knew,’ I replied, tucking my hands safely away underneath my armpits. ‘I thought I knew exactly what I was going to do but I’m so lost. I’ve got the plot and I’ve written a draft, but I can’t quite get under the skin of what the book is about, if that makes sense.’
